The picture was not much as a work of art perhaps, but it was a striking likeness. There was the firm mouth, and the kind grey eyes, and the broad shoulders, rounded and stooping a little, after long years of labour, and the abundant dark hair, which had showed no silver threads until the last blow came to end all. A sudden pang smote John’s heart as he looked.
“I was but a lad,” he said to himself. “I didna ken what he was till I lost him.”
“You are growing like him, John,” said his mother softly.
“Am I, mother? I doubt it is only your loving een that can see it.”
“Are ye troubled, John?” were the words that rose to the mother’s lips, but they were not spoken. “Ye’re needing your tea, John,” said she instead.
John laughed. “I’m needing something, and I’ll be glad of my tea in the meantime. No, you are not to rise. You are to sit still in your chair and tell me what to do.”
Not that he needed telling. The skill, and the will, and the gentleness natural to a loving daughter had come to this mother’s son through long and loving service. So the little table was brought forward, on which all things were already arranged. The tea was “masket,” and the teapot covered with the “cosie,” and during the three minutes necessary and sufficient for its proper infusion, John went to his room, and the mother’s face grew grave while she waited.
“He’s no’ at peace with himself. But he’ll tell me if he’s needing my help. God bless him and keep him this day—and forever and ay.”
Then John came in and they had their tea, and spoke about other things, about the visit she had had in the afternoon from little Marjorie, whom Allison Bain had carried in her arms to see her, as she often did, and of how the child was growing stronger every day. And then they agreed together that little Annie Thorn, who had been coming in to help Mrs Beaton all these years, should come now to stay always, because it would be better in many ways for both mistress and maid. They spoke of other things besides; but it must be acknowledged that John said little, and was not so ready with assent or with response as he was wont to be when his mother had anything to say to him.
After a time they fell into silence for a little, and then John said: